


Ascension

by lilyconrad



Category: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dubious Consent, I think?, M/M, Order 66 happens too, Post Youngling Slaughter scene, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Top Anakin Skywalker, Vader is evil here!, Vaderkin, Vaderwan, no actual smut, obikin, sorry the angst just overtook EVERYTHING, top vaderkin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyconrad/pseuds/lilyconrad
Summary: Anakin loathes the soulmark Obi-Wan bears, a black dragon that will one day take his beloved master away from him.





	1. The Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick, off-the-cuff short piece inspired by Imperialvader's [AU prompt](https://writegowrite.tumblr.com/post/165028129469/imperialvader-soulmate-identifying-marks-obikin) over on Tumblr. Thank you for the idea! <3
> 
> "Soulmate identifying marks Obikin au except their marks don’t match."
> 
> (Probably three or so chapters in all.)

There is a word in almost every culture for the abstract soulmarks most are born with. In the Jedi tradition it is _sih’reil_ , an ancient phrase borrowed from a long-dead culture meaning “the sun behind clouds at dawn”.

The mark is an expression of your mate’s spirit written on your skin. The joyous moment when the marks switch, when fate seals the two of you together and you become aware of your mate as your own mark returns home to you and your lover’s to them, is known by an equally poetic phrase: _sih’ilam_.

More difficult to translate into Basic, it is at its most simple “the first ray of dawn light across a ridge of clouds.” The layers of nuance implied in the original language required additional footnotes in Anakin’s Senior Padawan history text, which he committed to memory with bitter sadness.

“The word chosen for ‘first ray’ is similar in pronunciation to ‘epiphany’, the realization of the other, the acceptance of the other by fate as your soulmate, the eternal change that will be wrought in your life by the two of you being brought together.

“The clouds refer to the sleeping spirit, made beautiful, precious, and whole by the light of the other. ”

Anakin has a soulmark, a symbol of his fated love: a delicate, subtle line of gold winding around his throat. The oracles of Dathomir whispered its meaning to him at the age of thirteen, the traditional Jedi age for the universal Ceremony of Knowledge. He can still remember the heavy formal cloak on his thin shoulders and the frightening face of the old woman hovering in the dark of the chamber, almost lost in swirls of glowing green. “Your soulmate, little Jedi… will be a slave. Pure of heart but imprisoned.”

At first he was mortified. The shame of being bound to another slave, of never escaping his past, made him keep the oracle’s words to himself. Some share what the oracle says with others. Anakin never does.

And as he grew older, humiliation at his fate turned to anger.

As a young man, all he wants is somehow, some way to be his Master’s soulmate. Even as a Knight, Obi-Wan is all he can think about.

But Anakin knows Obi-Wan will never be his.

Obi-Wan hides his own soulmark beneath high collars, but Anakin has caught glimpses of it. It is an elegant, dangerous set of jet-black lines spiraling low around his throat and down over his heart that resemble a predator in flight.

Once, stripped to the waist and delirious with painkillers after a vicious ambush by Separatist forces, Obi-Wan even offered what the Dathomir witches told him on his own thirteenth birthday. Anakin will never forget the slurred, careful words. _It’s ugly, isn’t it? Hate it. Oracles said it’s a dragon. My mate’s a dragon. Dark… and powerful, she said. He will be a king… but evil. I don’t want that. What… what does it say about me that… someone like that… would be my soulmate?_

Anakin wonders when it will happen, when the sudden pain of _sih’ilam_ will bow Obi-Wan over and he will stand back up with his own mark returned home to him and a bone-deep pull to go find the owner of the dragon, whether he wants to or not.

When Obi-Wan will leave Anakin behind and be taken away by this monster that curls around his neck.

Will it be one of the nobles at the negotiations Obi-Wan helps with on so many of his missions?

Will it be a Coruscanti sky-sider, so filthy rich he can live high enough to see the stars at night from his apartments?

Will it be one of the Jedi masters on the Council with him, powerful in their own way in the Order?

The question drives Anakin to rage and envy, to darker and darker corners of his heart, to whispers of forbidden knowledge even deeper than that of the witches. Jealousy blooms hot and bright inside him, stoked by an old friend’s promise to help Anakin learn how to break a soulmark.

“Is it possible to learn this power?” he says to Chancellor Palpatine, shocked to find anyone who will even talk about such a taboo subject.

“Not from a Jedi.”

And that is the beginning of the end of Anakin Skywalker, as slow and sure as a man drowning alone at sea.

His new Master tells Anakin such fearsome magics must be earned with fervor and blood. “What are you willing to give to break a bond fate itself has made? Much will fate ask of you,” Sidious says, barely able to conceal his glee at how Anakin’s pining has curdled his love for Obi-Wan into something brutal and selfish and desperate for power over more than a single lover.

Sidious makes sweeter and sweeter promises, winding his coils ever tighter around Anakin until the endless sea of his jealousy and hatred win and the Jedi is gone forever. A Sith named Vader rises in his place, cold and vicious and hungry for everything Anakin never had.

Order 66 sweeps across the galaxy, Vader an angel of fire and destruction at the head of it as he and the 501st burn their way through the Jedi Temple.

As he leaves a room acrid with the sting of ozone and scattered with small bodies, Vader stumbles and almost falls over, crashing into the wall and dropping his saber.

It feels like someone is choking him with molten metal, pouring liquid iron on his throat, and he clutches frantically at the collars of his tunics, yanking them open to the sound of his saber rolling loud across the tile.

_Sih’ilam_.

Letting out a cry of furious rage as the pain recedes into a dull ache, Vader yanks his saber back with the Force and turns back into the room he just left, stalking over the tiny corpses to the windows across the way.

There are few mirrors in the Jedi Temple, but the windows of the Council Room have always caught reflections nicely, especially at night.

Anakin Skywalker watched himself be berated and judged over and over again in those windows, a little taller each time but no more respected.

Now Darth Vader looks at his handsome reflection rising ghost-like over the jeweled lanes of Coruscant and lets out a mad, unhinged laugh of amazement.

A dragon lies brooding around his throat in sinuous waves of black.

Obi-Wan’s dragon.

Vader whirls and strides out, the Force pulsing around him, already on his commlink to the clones on Utapau that Sidious specially ordered to spare Obi-Wan and imprison rather than kill him.

Vader had hoped to keep Obi-Wan drugged and hidden away until Sidious taught him what he promised to, until he could tell Obi-Wan the good news, that Anakin had freed him from his horrible fate, that Anakin was always meant to be with him even if they were not soulmates.

But now he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t need Sidious. In the end, he understands with an icy satisfaction, Anakin was never meant to be with Obi-Wan.

Vader was.

Vader can feel the ghostly remnant of _sih’ilam_ sparking in his veins, the gut-level need to get on a ship and go in the direction of his soulmate. Toward Utapau.

Toward Obi-Wan, who he knows now wears a warm ring of gold around his throat.

Vader smiles and closes his eyes, running his gloved hand over sensitive skin marked forever by his own spirit returning home.

_Mine. Obi-Wan is mine._

_Forever._


	2. A Gift of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I stress-wrote a second chapter: I have no plot planned out for this like I usually do. I will add at least one more, but might leave off there. Thanks for reading, and hope you like it!

“The Sun shines forever

Upon the Dragon of the Abyss.

The Sun entrances the Devourer,

Makes safe the way for us.

 

Let the black Dragon feast

On those who oppose us.

Let Him make broken tombs

Of their worlds.

 

Who has ever beheld a dragon

Strong enough to cage a sun?

Lord of the Dark, we beg You,

Spare Your faithful.

 

May You rule forever

On Your throne of blood.

All honor to the Dragon.

All honor to His Sun.”

To solemn chanting, the Procession of the Dawn made its way through the grand main hall, the children’s voices echoing off of carved ceilings high overhead. Whenever Lord Vader visited, the Sun himself would come out of his meditation chambers, a somber ghost clad in waves of white and hints of gold that trailed like light behind him.

As he made his way past the bowing servants and singing children, he tried to block out the hymn. _I am Obi-Wan Kenobi_ , he told himself, closing his eyes as he walked. _I am a Jedi. I am the last Jedi._

_And I will not be afraid of the man coming here._

But his hands trembled in both anger and fear, hidden beneath the voluminous silks of his sleeves just as they were once hidden beneath simple linen.

_He said he had a special gift for me._

Vader’s gifts were usually Force-sensitive children to train, each one a pointed symbol of another planet he had spared for Obi-Wan’s sake. They stood singing on either side of the hallway as Obi-Wan passed, and he observed with bleak admiration that they had indeed served their main purpose: he had not killed himself after over a year of this nightmarish charade, and in return Vader and his horde of fanatical soldiers had spared billions and given him new younglings to train as Jedi.

The Children of the Sun, the cult that had formed around Vader called them. A dozen innocents so far, training in the sacred ways of the last pure Jedi, the Golden Sun that had been chosen by fate itself to be the soulmate of and counterweight to the Dragon of the Void.

There were no younglings or anyone else in the airy chamber Obi-Wan entered at the end of the hall, and for that he was both grateful and anxious as he sat on a long bench and arranged his robes out of habit, the silent guard that had accompanied him moving back to stand a respectful distance at one of the room’s many windows.

 _Vader’s getting tired of waiting_ , Obi-Wan thought, lifting his head enough to take in the lush, sprawling gardens outside.

He remembered the last time Vader had come here, how he had run his hand along Obi-Wan’s chin and tightened it around his throat and the golden line that shimmered there.

_“Will you have me?” Vader whispered, just as he had asked every time he visited._

_As if there were truly a choice, Obi-Wan thought bitterly before murmuring, “No,” just as he had answered every time before._

_A glint shone in his former Padawan’s eyes as he considered Obi-Wan with a hunger colder than the gloved metal fingers pressing into Obi-Wan’s skin._

_The soul bond between them seethed with raw frustration: Obi-Wan wondered if this would be the night Vader consummated their strange, awful mimicry of a courtship, but Vader let go and stalked out without another word._

Now Obi-Wan took a deep breath and stared out across the waves of flowers and greenery outside, a low sense of dread ruining the beauty of the scene as he ran his fingers along the delicate line of gold around his neck. _Not this time. He will have me this time_ , Obi-Wan told himself with a grim certainty and guilt at the need sparking in his own body, flaring at the proximity of his soulmate. _A man cannot refuse sih’ilam forever, or he will go mad._

_And if I refuse for too long, he may very well slaughter every child here and destroy their homeworlds as well._

A hand slid onto his shoulder, and he patted it absent-mindedly, not looking up at the guard who had drifted closer while Obi-Wan was lost in thought. “Thank you,” he murmured. “How soon until he arrives?”

One gentle press and then two short taps, faint touches through the layers of silk: old battle code for under ten minutes.

Obi-Wan sat up straighter and allowed the bodyguard to gently pull his ceremonial hood off, arranging it in a careful spill of snow down his back.

 

* * *

 

“The Dragon!” “The Dragon!” The servant’s cries echoed through the vast hall, cutting off the chant that had greeted Vader and his escorts as they strode in from the side halls that led in from the estate’s massive hangar bay.

Everyone present fell to their knees in a rustle of clothing and jewelry, leaving only the sound of boots clicking across the tile floor. The smallest Child of the Sun, too young to resist the temptation, peeked up as he heard the three soldiers drawing closer.

The slight bit of movement from the rows of huddled forms drew Vader’s eye, and he fixed the little one with a wide, crooked grin. Out on the edges of his ever-expanding kingdom, where belief in the Dragon at first wavered before all doubt was removed, such an affront would have meant instant death. But here, in the center of all that he had built, Vader only felt amusement at the rare bravery of the youngling. _Let him see. Let him know._

The child paled and dropped his face back to the floor, lost once again in a sea of white.

Vader stalked past, the smile fading as he lifted a hand and waved it forward, signalling the two men behind him forward to the doors.

In the chaos that had fallen after the Emperor’s mysterious death, Vader’s first, audacious proclamation as the new, self-appointed ruler of the galaxy had been to ban slavery and predatory taxation in every system. That and the swift, ruthless way he enforced those edicts had won him zealous support from the masses of poor and disenfranchised found on every planet.

The wealthy and powerful were not always so accommodating, however.

Even here on Coruscant, every room would be scanned before Vader set foot in it, every bit of food and drink meticulously checked by the Brothers of the Dragon.

Vader’s second proclamation had been to give citizenship to every clone soldier who came to serve him personally, a chance to be reborn pure and whole after the ignoble way the man that would become known as the Cursed One had used them in the destruction of the Jedi. There were even whispers among the Brothers that in his deepest trances the Dragon could reverse the premature aging their makers had shackled them with, granting it to those that brought him great honor on the battlefield.  

There were now naturally born sentients mixed in among the Brothers, but the two that moved ahead to canvas the entryway to the private chamber at the end of the hall were clones, bound to Vader by the fire and blood of a hundred battles fought with him. Nothing would escape their attention, and no one would survive an attempted attack on their leader.

“Clear, my lord,” the one on the left said, snapping to attention with his blaster rifle across his chest as he stood aside from the door.

“Inside as well, my lord,” the one on the right added with a crisp bow, tucking away the sensor he carried.

“How many inside?”

“Two. Your _vod_ and his shadow.”

Vader nodded thoughtfully, already distracted by the lovely scent of anxiety and lust blossoming across the soul bond, wondering how much of each was his and how much was Obi-Wan’s. “Wait outside. Comm back an order for four men to oversee the kitchens. I wish to dine here tonight. And tomorrow.”

“Very good, my lord.”

The soldiers pulled the heavy, carved doors open and Vader disappeared inside in a billow of black, no one in the hall rising or making a sound until they were closed once again.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan sensed Vader coming down the hall, the wildfire of his former Padawan’s spirit growing so hot and bright he had turned halfway toward the door before realizing what he was doing.

He turned back toward the windows just as the door opened, uneasy at both the terrifying radiance of Vader’s presence and the small, aching part of his own soul that yearned to burn himself away in it.

Perfectly still, he heard the dry click of armor as his guard knelt to Vader, and prayed it had been done quickly enough for Vader’s liking. Vader was not fond of Obi-Wan having a personal bodyguard that did not come from the Brothers, no matter how skilled he might be, and it was only at Obi-Wan’s specific request that this broken reminder of their old lives had been allowed to remain by Obi-Wan’s side after the Ascension.

“Go,” Vader said, and there was another clack as the guard bowed, stealing out before the doors closed behind him. Obi-Wan let out the small breath he was holding, focusing once again on keeping the heat of the soul bond at bay long enough to give himself time to think.

Silence fell over the room once again and a breeze swept the fragrance of flowers in through the open windows. Obi-Wan lifted his chin and willed himself to be calm, to find that island inside himself that left all else distant and harmless, at the sound of Vader’s boots crossing the floor to him.

_He is a monster. He is a monster and yet…_

“Obi-Wan,” Vader whispered in his ear, leaning over him from behind. His hands slid over Obi-Wan’s shoulders, the gloves he wore scuffed and scratched: he had not taken the time to change into his own ceremonial garments. The scent of battle still clung to him, smoke and ozone and blood, and for a moment Obi-Wan was back in the Clone Wars, wondering where his own armor had gone.

“We took the Jakarian shipping lanes this morning.”

Stunned, Obi-Wan blinked down at the fingers twining in the folds of his robes, black leather lost in draping white. “They… how did you do it? Reports said they had three times your numbers.”

“You know how, Obi-Wan,” Vader said, lips brushing Obi-Wan’s ear. “The odds don’t matter. I always win.”

“Congratulations on your victory,” Obi-Wan replied, swallowing. “I… I know you have wanted control of them for a long while now.”

“It’s a good omen. A gift of the night.”

Vader’s unannounced visit, the mention of a mysterious special present for Obi-Wan, his battle gear, all of it made sudden, horrible sense to Obi-Wan.

He thought of the refrain to a folk song Anakin used to sing when he was working on an engine or they were waiting for a drop down into battle.

_I found a fairy_

_between the dunes,_

_dancing soft beneath_

_the sister moons._

_She granted my wish_

_with silver light,_

_Ghost of the desert,_

_gift of the night._

Obi-Wan sang the lines quietly, his voice low and smooth despite the pounding of his heart at how Vader’s hands tightened on his shoulders and hunger swelled in the Force.

In the heady mix of religions that flourished on Tatooine, as they often did in places where nothing else could, a sudden stroke of luck was believed to bring luck to other ventures, but only if acted upon quickly. For all of his smug confidence, Vader’s victory in Jakarian space was astounding, and his presence here so soon after hinted at just how deeply the old beliefs still ran in him.

 _He has come here to ask again if I will be his. And he… has brought some kind of wedding present. He is that certain I will give in to him this time_. Stunned, Obi-Wan let the last note of the song trail away as Vader walked around the bench to stand before him.

The Force trembled around them, Obi-Wan’s eyes dropping from Vader’s harsh golden gaze to the hint of his soulmark visible around his throat, the stark onyx waves of the dragon hidden beneath the lines of his black collars. Vader was as handsome as Anakin had been, strong and tall and proud, but there was a wildness to him now, a feral potency, and Obi-Wan was always unnerved to find how much Vader’s strange, predatory eyes fascinated him if he let himself stare into them for too long. _Sih’ilam. It is only that_ , he tried to reassure himself as he had before, but the shameful, constant spark of desire remained.

_Sih’ilam didn’t happen until he became this. This is what you are drawn to._

_Perhaps you are just as much a monster as he is, under the surface._

Vader reached out and slipped his hand under Obi-Wan’s chin, lifting it.

He found himself pinned under Vader’s intent gaze once again: the chamber, the gardens, all else slowly burned away into a wash of gold and venom, lust and danger. _What do I do? What do I say?_

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes?”

“Will you have me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? (Again, I promise I will write at least one more chapter!)
> 
> Thinking about how powerful a non-Mustafar Vaderkin would be, I figured it wouldn't take much for worship to spring up around him. I had fun with the idea of creating a cult in the spirit of Muad'Dib and the Fremen from _Dune_ with a dash of the War Boys from _Fury Road_.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still writing at a snail's pace due to health issues but figured a short update would be better than sitting on this for yet another month until I got more written.

Obi-Wan stared up into Vader’s eyes, into the lust that had yet to be sated and the hunger that never would. _It will not be enough for him. It will never be enough. Me. This._

_He will never stop. The whole galaxy will fall under his sway before he is done._

Obi-Wan closed his eyes as other, more traitorous ideas crept in alongside his horror, trying to shut out their source. But still they whispered and wondered with the same coldness that glinted in Vader’s gaze. _So much power. And so enthralled with you._

_What could you do with that power at your side?_

And beneath those thoughts, something smoldering down where words failed.

Attraction.

Obi-Wan’s body didn’t care what Vader had done. _Sih’ilam_ was only the messenger of destiny, as the old saying went. Not the judge of it.

Obi-Wan felt Vader’s gloved hand under his chin. He heard his former Padawan’s soft, steady breathing and inhaled the scent of ozone and smoke, rich and heady like crude incense.

He opened his eyes, blinking slowly, focusing on Vader once again.

“Will you have me?” Vader’s hand trembled under Obi-Wan’s chin and Obi-Wan took a deep breath, not looking away.

 _Do not be a fool and doom worlds that still live out of mourning for those already lost._ “Yes. I will have you.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, stunned by the rush of heat through his body the simple words brought, and fought a dizzying sense of unreality as Vader smiled the same beautiful smile Anakin would sometimes give him when they had survived yet another impossible mission together.

Somewhere out in the garden a bird sang, the notes clear and pure across the waves of flowers and vines.

_Perhaps this is my punishment, for my failures. To be his._

_Forever._

Vader let his hand drift down and his fingers slide past the golden ring around Obi-Wan’s throat, desire flaring through the Force before he took a step back and gave a formal bow with the same endearing awkwardness Anakin always had. “Tonight. That is the way it must be done.”

Obi-Wan managed a nod, throat dry and heat simmering just under his skin. “Yes. Under the stars?”

Vader’s head snapped up in surprise as he started to rise, the room’s soft light sparking gold in the waves of his hair. “You know our wedding traditions?”

There was no question what Vader meant by ‘our’: his first real base of power had been Tatooine, and Vader the conqueror had enthusiastically embraced the old, austere ways of the desert planet that Anakin the Jedi had tried so hard to bury first out of embarrassment at his humble beginnings and then out of grief for the mother he had failed to save.

“I know ceremonies must be seen by the stars. By the ancestors.”

“Yes.”

Obi-Wan recalled Vader’s second campaign on Tatooine after the first had freed the slaves and fed the rich to the mobs. The Sith Lord had personally led the hunt for every living Tusken Raider on the planet, and rows of their skulls now lined the massive arch that marked the entrance to the Temple of the Fallen Mother, the Eternal Giver of Mercy that had sacrificed herself so that the Dragon could later rise up in all of His terrible power.

 _What do the ancestors think about that, I wonder?_ “I believe it goes, ‘Happy or sad, the stars above must see,’?” Obi-Wan whispered, voice steady despite the pounding of his heart.

Vader nodded, pleased. “You really did listen to me when I talked about that. I only did once. Maybe twice.”

“I always listened to you when you talked… my lord.”

Vader’s smile faded as he stood the rest of the way back up, a new suspicion tightening his mouth into a thin line. “I told you not to call me that when we’re alone.”

“I cannot call you Anakin. Do not ask me to do that.”

“And when we are bound?”

“I will call you what you are. My husband.”

Vader’s anger vanished at the title, and he nodded in satisfaction. “Yes. Your skybrother. Just as you will be mine. Always.”

Saying nothing, Obi-Wan sat up straighter in an attempt to steady his thoughts. He hated the deep, hidden part of himself that rejoiced at Vader’s simple declaration, at the fact Obi-Wan was wanted. Coveted, even, beyond all others.

_He is a monster._

The words hung stale in his mind, ones he had repeated over and over again during his captivity that now drifted pale and meaningless against the white-hot fire of Vader’s halo in the Force.

_Am I doing this to save others? Or am I just giving in to the same selfish needs that made him Vader?_

Obi-Wan watched Vader bow and leave in an elegant wave of black and armor, his gaze lingering on the closed door long after his bodyguard came back and knelt down by his side.

Worry radiated from the man, and Obi-Wan murmured the news without looking at him. “I gave in, Cody. After all this time. We will be bound tonight.”

The anxiety sharpened to something more dangerous, and Obi-Wan flicked his eyes down to the kneeling man and shook his head. “No. You will not try to stop him.”

Cody glared up at him, bringing gloved hands up to cut sharp angles through the air. _I won’t let him hurt you_. Their private sign language had evolved from the mix of official battle signals and grunt-level slang both of them had picked up in the Clone Wars, and Obi-Wan felt his heart twist at the dropped clench of one hand over the rigid line of the other at the end of Cody’s sentence.

What would have meant “primary target acquired” in the old days took on a horrible new meaning here: _He is willing to try to kill Vader to save me._

“No,” Obi-Wan whispered, leaning forward in a hiss of silk and golden ornaments to rest his hands on the cool plates of armor on Cody’s shoulders. “Listen to me. I need you. The children need you. This… this was always going to happen.”

Cody clenched his jaw to another brisk wave and dip of his hand. _Not safe to proceed._

“I will be all right.” Obi-Wan gave him a sad smile that faded into concern at the anger in Cody’s dark eyes. “I know you want to protect me, but if I have to I will order you to stand down, Commander.”

Obi-Wan felt a pang of guilt at using the old title and the way Cody’s eyes widened at it, but the gamble was worth it. The clone dropped his head in silent acquiescence, not looking up again.

 _You can’t protect me from him. You can’t protect me from fate._ Obi-Wan traced his hand along Cody’s cheek, fingers pale along his guard’s darker skin as they fell to linger along the high collar of his armor. There was a scar hidden beneath the dull onyx of the plating there, a winding and vicious line that crossed Cody’s throat like a shadow of the golden ring encircling Obi-Wan’s.

“You have suffered enough for me.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath and sat back, finding the calm tone for his dear friend that he would not have been able to find for himself.

“I will have one of the Brothers escort me tonight. You will stay here and look after the children.”


	4. The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have fought this chapter for days and just need to get it out: hope you like it and thanks for reading this little ficlet!

Before sunset on his wedding day, a beautifully clear Coruscanti day like almost all of them were, Obi-Wan took a small item from a simple wooden box in his rooms and summoned one of the Brothers to escort him to the somber remains of the razed Jedi Temple, an hour away across the busy lanes and sparkling buildings of the Senate District.

Anonymous and silent in a plain hooded cloak, Obi-Wan joined the constant stream of supplicants begging favors and protections from the ghosts of the Jedi slaughtered there.

He came to ask nothing of the dead, who were said to roam the depths of a monstrous sinkhole that dominated the center of the ruins. It had appeared on the day Order 66 had roared through the galaxy, an ugly crater lurching deeper and deeper into the ground as the Temple’s lower levels had burned and collapsed on themselves. Rumors said offerings, credits and jewels and other valuables, lay knee-deep in the depths of the pit but even the most hardened thieves lost their nerve halfway down into the gloom.

The sinkhole was a place of the dead. A place none would return from.

As the afternoon sun burned cool and white overhead, Obi-Wan knelt by the edge and reached out with the Force, tears in his eyes at the wordless howls of his lost brothers and sisters that none of the other visitors could hear.

 _You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you_ , Obi-Wan told the abyss as he dropped what he had brought into the pit, watching a slender Padawan braid vanish into the dark.

He remembered the happiness in Anakin’s eyes as he had proudly presented Obi-Wan with it the day he became a Knight, and fought a horrible feeling of vertigo that had nothing to do with the sinkhole black and awful before him. _Goodbye, Anakin_.

_Goodbye._

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, after a procession of two as silent as the night lying dark and rich around him, Obi-Wan stared down at the cushion the servant had led him to in this little garden away from the main villa of the complex.

It was one of two arranged on a lavish rug laid out over the courtyard flagstones still warm from daylight. A low, simple table sat before the cushions with two blue tapered candles flickering in the evening breeze and casting warm shadows into the gloom. The soft, lovely scene was not what held his attention, however.

It was the darker blue candle marking his place, a lighter one set in front of the other cushion.

_I… I don’t understand._

There were a half-dozen variations of the soulmate ceremony recognizable across the galaxy, all from different cultures but meant to answer a question that the soulmark itself did not. Who would be the aggressive, the day, the fire? Who would be the passive, the night, the water?

Soulmates were always two spiritual halves of a clear whole, an esoteric truth observed since the dawn of history and the birth of more than one religion.

To be bound as soulmates for Jedi was to become the living embodiment of the dual forces of the very universe itself, and for the rest of their lives each partner would assume a clear role in their union that showed this. The day represented strength and power and the duty to protect, a holdover from ancient times of war. The night represented wisdom and compassion and the duty to heal, to temper the day when it burned too hot.

The day and the night were symbolized by light and dark candles of the same color: an eternal rhythm maintained by both halves. The bound pair usually sat and lit the candles together to start the ceremony after many long talks about the weight each half bore. Obi-Wan flicked his eyes back and forth between the candles twice to make certain that the blue one placed in front of his was in fact darker than the taper in front of Vader’s seat.

_It is. Vader has chosen for us._

Stunned, Obi-Wan gestured to the cushion as the servant bowed. “Are you sure?” he asked. “This one?”

“Yes, my lord,” the man replied with quiet respect, not meeting his eyes. “The Dragon lit these Himself, and will join you shortly. Please sit.”

Speechless, Obi-Wan sank to his knees on the cushion, only a lifetime of practice keeping his motions slow and precise as his mind reeled with confusion.

And a powerful surge of desire that humiliated him as much as it excited him. _I… I am to be this half? The night?_

A long-buried memory surfaced, a blur of harsh shadows and the muffled thud of loud music and conversation, the soft weight of his Padawan braid swinging to the hard thrusts of an older man’s hips against his.

_A group of us Padawans were out celebrating someone’s knighting, I can’t remember whose, and he was handsome and I was half-drunk and it felt so good to have someone look at me like he did and touch me like he did. And oh stars what he did to me later, back in that cramped little stall._

_To have this stranger inside me, to give up control of the situation, of myself, so completely to a man whose name I didn't even know... it was bliss. Perfect, wanton bliss._

And that momentary and total surrender of control, of the cool, iron will Obi-Wan had always been raised to believe was the duty of any good Jedi, had terrified him so much when he had returned to his senses that he had fled home with the barest of goodbyes and no explanation at all to his friends. They had found him meditating in his room the next morning, sleepless and exhausted and in no mood to discuss the attractive stranger they had seen him talking to the night before.

Time had moved on and Obi-Wan had carefully constructed a wall around that memory, sealing it away bit by bit with every sexual experience that came after, every male lover he took the same way the stranger had taken him. Those encounters were pleasant enough and, more importantly, he was in control. That was the way of things. That was the way Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi was supposed to be.

And yet here the indigo candle sat in front of him, its flame wavering, glinting off of the simple golden base it sat in. _The night,_ it whispered. _The passive half, the yielding one, strength drawn from surrender._

Vader knew.

Not the details, not the sordid way Obi-Wan had discovered that particular fact about himself. But Vader somehow knew the hidden truth of him, more than any of his friends or lovers ever had. More than Anakin ever had, despite the bond they shared.

“The Dragon,” came the servant’s distant voice, and the Force smoldered around Obi-Wan like embers stirred to life by a gust of wind.

Obi-Wan stayed where he was as Vader entered the courtyard behind him, facing the table, struggling to find words for the emotions raging through him to the sweet pull of _sih’ilam_.

Vader approached in slow, careful steps and sank down on the cushion next to him, facing his own pale blue candle. He was in the same plain linen robes Obi-Wan wore, simple ones that rustled with his movements.

“A single fire may be extinguished,” Vader intoned solemnly, lifting his hand to his own candle. His palm glowed orange as he cupped the candle flame and blew it out, the sharp hint of smoke lacing his next words. “A single soul may be lost.”

He turned to look at Obi-Wan, hungry golden eyes bronze in the only light left, the weak flutter of Obi-Wan’s candle. Vader’s speaking first had removed any possible doubt Obi-Wan had had about which half Vader intended him to be: the day took the lead, as it always would.

Obi-Wan swallowed, eyes not leaving Vader’s, and reached to cup his own candle as the ancient words came to him through his shock. “But two souls bound by fate will always find each other.” He turned, aware of Vader’s intense stare, and blew out the small flame, the two of them falling into darkness crowned with a sweep of stars overhead. “Their fire burns together, unseen. Forever.”

They sat in silence for a long while, Vader lifting his hand to trace along Obi-Wan’s face, his expression lost in shadow. “You’re mine,” he finally whispered, fingers trembling for a moment as he stroked his hair. “After all this time.”

“I have always been yours… husband,” Obi-Wan murmured, the word both strange and familiar, repulsive and alluring. “Your dragon guarded me all my life.” _It’s true. Oh, I wish it wasn’t but it is. Even now I can’t hate you completely._

_All you have done is show me what I am. What fate has always meant me to be. Your shadow. Your guide. The Sun that will keep the Dragon entranced for as long as I can, until I burn out or you consume me._

“And I will always be yours,” Vader answered, taking Obi-Wan’s hand.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and silently said goodbye to his beloved Padawan for the second and last time as they rose and began to walk back toward the sprawling villa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sun and the Dragon, forevermore.
> 
> (If you like this story and would like to continue it in any way, go for it! Just please let me know. :) )
> 
> So between my health issues and lack of plotting for this one, this story drove me nuts. There were a couple of things I didn't get to include, but wanted to share with y'all anyway, in case the angst level wasn't high enough...
> 
>  **Cody's backstory and scar** : When the Emperor reprogrammed Cody and a squad to NOT kill Obi-Wan prior to Order 66, it went against the core, original programming of their chips. So on the day of Order 66, they captured Obi-Wan and restrained him physically and with Force-inhibitors as ordered, and then descended into psychotic episodes as their original programming fought against their new orders. 
> 
> Locked in an interior room with him, to keep the other clones from finding Obi-Wan, the squad all killed themselves to keep Obi-Wan safe from them, not daring to draw their blasters for visceral fear of using them on Obi-Wan, the man they were now to protect, and committing suicide in gruesome, primitive ways. 
> 
> Cody was the last, and tried to slit his own throat. Obi-Wan, who had been frantically trying to free himself, was able to get the Force inhibitor off and drag himself to Cody, using all of his remaining strength to heal him enough Cody wouldn't die. Cody will never be himself again, and as the Brothers called him is now more of a "shadow" than a man. The Brothers also shun him because he tried to kill himself, a mortal sin for clone troopers. He cares deeply for Obi-Wan and will give his life to protect him. Beyond that nothing else matters.
> 
>  **Vader's wedding gift** : Still here? I warned you! So in my original thinking for this, the morning after, Vader looks at Obi-Wan for a long time and finally tells him he has a gift for him to celebrate their union. Vader throws on a robe, going to the door and whispering something to the Brothers outside. Obi-Wan wonders what it will be, and a few minutes later Vader turns from the door with a bundled, sleeping baby in his arms.
> 
> Obi-Wan knows before Vader speaks what he will say: "This is my son. My gift to you." He hands Obi-Wan a sleeping Luke and tells him that Obi-Wan will raise Luke just as Vader will raise Luke's twin sister, Leia. "One child of the Light, one child of the Dark."
> 
> "I don't understand," Obi-Wan says.
> 
> "Sidious had a vision of these children being born," Vader answers calmly.
> 
> "Where is their mother? Who is their mother?"
> 
> "His vision said she would die in childbirth."
> 
> "And?"
> 
> "She did."


End file.
